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Dante laughs, amusement rolling effortlessly through his voice.
“If you’ve got something to confess, Lucas,” he says, “now would be a very good time to do so.”
My attention snaps to him.
Confess?
The little color left in his face disappears. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. We just need to—”
A metallic creak cuts him off.
Two figures stand on the other side of the cage’s fence; faces painted and wide smiles. Their doll-like dresses are streaked with blood, almost unnervingly bright beneath the harsh warehouse lights. Each holds a whip loosely at her side, yet neither makes any move to enter. They simply stand there and watch us.
Lucas sees them too, and his breathing quickens.
“Ah shit—we need to go,” he says, already backing away from the cage. “We really need to go.”
He turns, but Dante catches the back of his hoodie and slams him against the fence before he gets two steps in. He gasps, immediately clawing at Dante’s wrist. “Let me go.”
The man doesn’t even blink.
“You’ve been trying very hard to leave this conversation.” His gaze flicks toward me. “Maybe it’s time we let you finish one.”
Lucas’s breathing turns ragged. “I don’t have anything to say. You said you weren’t going to kill me.”
His eyes dart over Dante’s shoulder and land on me.
“You said you’d only kill people who were a threat to Adrian.” His voice cracks. “Tell him, Adrian. Tell him I’m not a threat to you.”
My hands flex at my sides, my mind seeking reasoning for Dante’s drastic behavior towards him, but I know that he wouldn’t do this if Lucas didn’t majorly fuck up, and that's what bothers me.
Dante’s jaw tightens as he leans closer. “Oh, but that’s just it,” his voice drops, “I do think you’re a threat to Adrian.”
He goes still, eyes flaring until it looks like they’re about to pop out of its sockets.
Dante’s attention stays locked on him as he states loud and clear for the room to hear, “I think you’re the Goddamn reason he’s in this mess in the first place.”
Something inside my head snaps into focus. The fog that’s smothered everything since Amani’s death simply vanishes, sharpening everything around so brutally my senses are overwhelmed.
The twins’ smiles widen. They step into the cage, their doll dresses brushing against the metal bars as they advance toward us, whips in hand. Neither moves with the predatory urgency I’d expect from hunters who have cornered contestants, yet they seem almost content to watch.
Dante doesn’t appear concerned, so I don’t bother worrying about them either.
Lucas looks over his shoulder and sees them approaching.
“Adrian, please.” His voice trembles as he whips his head from side to side. “Tell him. Tell him I’m not a threat to you!”
“What did you do?” is all I have to say, feet rooted to the spot.
Dante reaches down and draws a knife from the sheath strapped to his thigh, pressing the blade beneath Lucas’s jaw, and the man goes rigid.
“You’re going to tell him the truth,” he commands, pressing the cold blade to his skin. “And if I hear you lie to him even once, I'll open your throat myself.”
His eyes glisten, voice shaking as he pleads, “Okay. Okay, please!” His hands slowly rise in surrender. “Just let me go.”
Dante studies him for another moment before lowering the knife, releasing his hoodie and stepping back.
Lucas looks at me, eyes tearing up, looking like his knees are about to give in. “I’m the reason you’re here.”
